


I'll Be Home With You

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: The Golden Globes BTS. Or mine and Lynne's version of it.





	I'll Be Home With You

**Author's Note:**

> *Title from Hozier's In A Week
> 
> Warnings for extensive mentions of the beard. Also, dw, the Ricky mentioned here is Ricky Martin, our faves.

Darren thinks he finally might have gotten used to it. And that scares him. He _shouldn’t_ be used to lying to people this much. Sure, he’s an actor, but actors get to be themselves at the end of the day. Clearly this rule doesn’t apply to him.

 

They’ve upped the ante for tonight (and tomorrow, he thinks apprehensively) and she’s scheduled to be on his arm 24/7. Or, as Darren tells himself, as little as he can get away with. It’s a game he’s used to playing, edging the line of what his team tells him to do and what _he_ wants to do.

 

Which, at the moment, would be to be curled up on the couch at home with his boyfriend, if it weren’t for the fact that Darren’s presenting at the fucking Golden Globes.

 

He still can’t really believe it.

 

Sometimes, with all that Darren’s been graced with in life, he feels as if he’s walking on air. That he’s wrapped up in a highly vivid technicolor dream, and soon he’ll wake up back to his wide-eyed twenty year old self, who performs for meagre tips and writes song lyrics on napkins.

 

Not someone who’s going to be on a TV show that millions of people will watch worldwide, that breaks artistic and cultural boundaries aplenty and has been the talk of Hollywood since it was first announced. Not someone who got to be on Broadway, got to sing and dance for a pretty living, and got to share his music with the world.

 

Not someone who managed to find the love of his life in the middle of all of it.

 

And for that Darren is _eternally_ grateful.

 

***

 

“You doing okay?”

 

They’re at the _real_ afterparty, the ones at respective high end clubs and bars, not the one broadcast to the world, and Ricky’s been staring at Darren in concern.

 

“I’m fine,” Darren insists, sliding his phone back into his pocket from where he’d been looking at the time.

 

Ricky raises a sceptical eyebrow. “You don’t have to be here anymore, you know.”

Out of anyone else’s mouth it would’ve sounded rather rude, but Darren knows what he’s referring to. After all, Ricky’s been through the entire process himself. The lies and the deceit and the overwhelming _relief_ you feel when you get home- to your _real_ home, and just get to _be_.

 

“You’ve done all you need,” continues Ricky, motioning to Darren’s manager at the other side of the room.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Go home,” Ricky says, more gently. “Talk to Chris. This is killing you, man, and I hate to see it happen. ”

Darren is reluctant to say goodbye to some of his truer friends that he’s hung out with tonight, and the process is drawn out, with many promises of ‘I’ll call you sometime’ and ‘I’ll let you know’. A few of them are coming tomorrow as well, and he’s excited to see them again.

 

With a curt nod at his team, he slips out of the back room and out onto the deserted street. There’ll be hell to pay for not following the planned exit routine, but Darren doesn’t really give a shit.

 

***

 

It’s close to two in the morning when he gets home. The house is peacefully quiet, and Cooper is asleep in the doorway. He’s been doing that ever since Darren moved in properly, waiting patiently for Darren to return home during late nights until he inevitably falls asleep. It amuses his husband to no end.

 

Darren expects Chris to be asleep, but there’s a sliver of light falling onto the landing from their bedroom. He tries to make as little noise as possible coming up the stairs and opening the door, just in case, but there’s no need.

 

Chris is sitting atop the covers, glasses perched on his nose, scribbling in the margins of a manuscript. His neat cursive handwriting adorns the black blocks of writing, and it all looks very confusing.

 

A gentle smile lifts up the corners of Chris’ mouth, and he puts aside his work and his glasses to scoot to the edge and open his arms. Darren falls into them immediately, ignoring the creasing of his (ridiculously expensive) pants as he kneels, head resting on Chris’ stomach.

 

“I am _so_ fucking proud of you,” comes the fierce whisper from above. Darren grins and buries his face further into Chris’ soft sleep shirt, inhaling his familiar smell.

 

“I think Brian thought I was dying from the amount of noise I made every time you appeared on the screen. He’s still angry with me about my squealing.”

 

Darren pulls back to look at the man above him, hair flopping into his eyes, which are warm with affection. “I love you.”

 

Chris is still smiling, but a small crease forms between his brows. “I love you too.” A flicker of recognition crosses his face. Slowly, he brings Darren up to his feet, so that he’s standing between the V of Chris’ legs. Fingers wander to the buttons of his jacket.

 

“Let’s get this off you,” he says gently. “It looks pretty uncomfortable.”

 

Darren doesn’t say anything- just lets Chris slide off the jacket and set to work on the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, the layers come off, leaving him in just his boxers and an undershirt.

 

“Come to bed?” Chris asks softly. “Or do you want to shower first?”

 

“I’ll lie with you for a bit before I do that. I want to tell you everything.”

 

Chris grins and tugs Darren down next to him, on top of the comforter. “You’d better, Mister. Leave nothing out.”

 

Darren is true to his word and talks until he starts to lose breath, getting so excited while recounting some events that Chris has can’t stop himself from laughing. Other times he’s less happy, and his brows furrow when he hears what Darren’s been subjected to this time.

 

“It wasn’t all bad,” Darren assures him, smoothing out the furrows with his fingertips. “I managed to avoid her for the most part. I just had to keep her company at the table, otherwise it would’ve looked like poor form.”

 

Chris captures Darrens hand in his own, bringing it to rest against his chest. Quietly, so quietly that Darren has to strain to hear him, he whispers, “It’s hurting you.”

 

Darren sighs, brushing his thumb along smooth, pale skin. “It has always hurt me, sweetheart.”

 

“Have they told you the end date?”

 

“It keeps changing. They say this is my big break, and that I’ll fuck it up if I blow the cover.”

 

When Chris doesn’t meet his eyes, just keeps staring at their twined hands, Darren lifts his chin up gently. “They’re thinking after the Emmys. Assuming I actually win.”

 

Chris is quick to assure him that he will. “I know it’s counting your chickens before they’ve hatched,” he says, “but you’re going to get this, Dare. I’m sure of it.”

 

Darren smiles, kissing him for the first time since he’s come home. “I’m scared but also kind of hopeful.”

 

“Good,” Chris says. “You’d be an idiot if you weren’t scared.”

 

Darren laughs, the sound breaking through the quiet of the room. “And _that,_ is why I love you.”

 

Chris pretends to pout. “Not because of my devilishly handsome looks?”

 

“That too,” Darren whispers, taking the puffy bottom lip between his teeth and sucking, grinning internally when Chris gasps into his mouth. When things inevitably start getting heated, Chris pushes him away with a steady hand to the chest.

 

“Uh uh, shower first.” His eyes glow and his lips blush a rosy pink. “You smell like fancy clothes and women’s perfume.”

 

Though it could be anyone's perfume, Darren still flinches just a little.

 

Immediately Chris is kissing him in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean her.”

 

“It’s fine,” Darren says. There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “She’s still coming tomorrow, you know.”

 

Chris rolls onto his back, taking Darren’s hand with him. “I know. Is she still wearing that hideous monstrosity you sent me a picture of?”

 

“Oh yeah. She insisted on it, not even Ashley could convince her otherwise.”

 

“Darren, even I can tell it looks like a homemade Halloween costume, and I shop at _Target_.”

 

Darren snorts back a laugh. “You’d look a million times better on my arm.”

 

“Well I certainly dress better.”

 

“Mmm that’s true. We’d look a pretty picture too.”

 

They fall silent, and Chris’ eyes are warm as they stare up at the ceiling. “Soon?”

 

Darren scoots closer to lay a head on his chest.

 

“Soon.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
